


catastrophise

by maketea



Series: the ways you said i love you [7]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Babies, Comfort, F/M, Married Life, Stressed Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23290213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maketea/pseuds/maketea
Summary: even at twenty-four -- a mother, a wife, a fashion designer -- marinette was still pretty good at catastrophising.(prompt 7 = as a thank you)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: the ways you said i love you [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667194
Comments: 34
Kudos: 328





	catastrophise

**Author's Note:**

> zzzzzzz it's 3am im not awake

Every day, Marinette tried to abide by the advice she had written at the end of her teenage diary:  _ Stop catastrophising. _

But when she hadn't seen Adrien in a week, when their daughter was teething, when she spilled her coffee on the sketches for her upcoming line and missed her bus home because she had to stop crying before she said goodbye to the receptionist, that scrawl of advice sounded a lot like the rest of the entries in that diary —  _ immature _ .

She took a seat at the back of the empty bus when it finally came, and cracked open the window. Other than having time to sulk, the other advantage to a late bus was that no one was there to complain about her opening the windows at the height of the January bluster.

Marinette pressed her forehead against the glass, and sighed. 

Maybe she could catastrophise just a little. Slip back into the skin and heart of her fourteen-year-old self while she had the chance.

She hadn't seen Adrien in a week and he was probably annoyed she would be late for their  _ one _ evening together this month — he definitely didn’t sound happy when she called to let him know.

Her daughter was teething and Marinette was late and Emma would throw a fit (and her baby food) if she so felt like it without  _ both _ her Maman and Papa.

She spilled coffee on her sketches like the klutz she was and now she'll never be able to finish her line on time, she'll have to scrap the whole project, and her brand will collapse, and she'll have to live off benefits and Emma will always hate her mother for not giving her a better life—

Marinette's bus stop rang over the tannoy. Mindful of her makeup, she wiped her damp cheeks, clapped the window shut, and hauled herself out of her seat.

She stood at the bus stop for a while, even after the bus itself disappeared down the road and its tail lights joined the city lights in the distance. Marinette took in a deep breath, and let it out in a misty, open-mouthed sigh.

She stood there until the wind cooled her face, until the only tears left on her were the ones that had rolled off her cheeks and soaked into her scarf. 

Maybe she could salvage her sketches.

She gave herself a once-over in the reflection of the bus stand, and headed towards her house.

Distantly, she remembered sending pictures of them to Alya. They had only been thumbnails, so far, but thumbnails were better than nothing. She could copy the ones that hadn’t been completely ruined (which were few, but Marinette wasn’t looking to start crying again) and restart the ones she had to throw out. Starting over meant starting with experience, right?

She slowed down to dig around her purse for her house keys.

Maybe Emma would be in a good mood tonight.

After all, they'd found that one cartoon that'd stop her from fussing while she ate, and perhaps, even if her Maman wasn't there, she'd sit still while Adrien fed her. She loved Adrien, anyway — a real Papa's girl. Now that she thought about it, Emma was probably happy to have a break from her boring, eat-this-eat-that don't-put-that-in-your-mouth mother and have her fun, piggybacks-around-the-house father instead.

Marinette pushed the key into the lock and turned.

And Adrien…

She let the front door shut behind her. As she bent to place her handbag down, Adrien appeared at the end of the corridor, Emma bundled in muslin and nestled in his arms.

"Oh," Marinette whispered. "You got her to sleep."

He nodded. Then he smiled, and tilted his head at her silently, waiting for her to follow him into the living room.

Marinette hung up her coat, used her thumb to fix her smudged mascara, then joined him. She took the armchair, while he sat back on the couch.

"How are you feeling?" Adrien whispered. "You sounded really upset when you called. I was gonna pick you up, but…" He glanced at Emma.

Marinette flushed. So he hadn't been annoyed (come on, girl, you should know him by now) — just concerned.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to worry you."

And she didn't, all she really had wanted to do was to let him know that she'd be late and Emma's food was in the fridge, but she had still been clutching her ruined sketches and her voice was raw with tears and it was a little hard to disguise her franticness.

Adrien reached over and cupped her knee. "I'll always worry about you, My Lady. That's been my job since day one."

She offered a weak smile. "I love you."  _ Thank you for worrying. _

He squeezed her knee and regarded her, expectant, but not insistent.

Marinette took in a deep breath. "I spilled coffee on all my sketches."

His hand faltered. "What?"

"Yeah, I just— I was trying to get everything done quickly so I could get home and we could have our evening together but my hands were already jittery and I kept the coffee too close to my workspace and when I turned around I dropped  _ all of it _ all over my designs and— and—" The tears came spilling back down her face. Marinette bit down on her knuckles until she could bring her voice back down. Adrien rubbed her thigh. "I'm sorry. I just… I spent so long on them…"

"I know, Bugaboo. You had a tough day." He lifted his arm. "Come here."

Marinette sniffed, stood up, and curled up on the couch next to Adrien. He pulled her into his side; she brought her knees up and buried her face into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry you had such a terrible day," he said, pressing his cheek against the top of her head. He picked out the hair clip holding back her hair and dropped it in his lap. "Why not stay home tomorrow?"

She gulped a sob that would've sounded awfully childish (awfully fourteen-year-old Marinette who thought  _ stop catastrophising  _ was easy) and placed her hand over her eyes. "I can't. I have to redo all my sketches. It's gonna take me forever, I have to start as soon as possible."

"Hey." Adrien stroked her back. "You're upset. You're  _ shaking. _ All week you've either been on Emma duty or you've been working. You need a break, Marinette."

"I can't—"

"You can. You should. I'm worried you'll make yourself sick." Gently, he kissed her forehead. "One day isn't gonna set you back."

Emma stirred against Adrien's shoulder. Marinette took her palm off her eyes, cleaned the tears onto her skirt, and ran her fingers down the muslin.

"I will lie on top of you so you can't get out of bed tomorrow," he said.

Marinette twitched with a little laugh of surprise. "That's one way of going about it."

"I'm being serious, My Lady." He lowered his head to meet her eyes. "Sleep in tomorrow. I'll make you breakfast in bed. We'll play with Emma and order takeout for lunch and cuddle all day."

"You'll spoil me." Still tucked under Adrien's chin, Marinette's thumb traced the tiny curve of Emma's ear. "Hear that, sweetie? Your Papa's gonna turn your Maman into a brat."

Adrien chuckled. "A  _ loved _ brat."

Marinette closed her eyes, and smiled.


End file.
